


After

by shalako



Series: Again, but a little bit to the left [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Forced Starvation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Mild hero-bashing, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalako/pseuds/shalako
Summary: The main difference Archie notices after a year and a half without Gold's presence in town is that he seems smaller, emaciated and pale.





	After

It’s Ruby Lucas who first acknowledges Archie when he steps into Regina’s painfully-crowded dining room. He smiles back at her but doesn’t return the greeting; instead, he scans the room, nodding back at anyone who bothers to nod at him, until he finds Mr. Gold standing in the far corner.

Gold’s suit is too big for him now, missing buttons and covered in dirt and dark stains. The right shoulder is torn, and so is the shirt underneath, so anyone who’s looking can spot a flash of skin. He’s lightly stubbled but his hair looks like it’s been recently trimmed — the main difference Archie notices, after a year and a half without Gold’s presence in town, is that he seems smaller: emaciated and pale.

Gold doesn’t see Archie looking at him. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and he looks tired but he’s paying sharp attention to whatever plan Emma and David Nolan are hatching at the moment.

Slowly, Archie makes his way across the room, squeezing past people and whispering apologies. Gold’s eyes finally flicker over to Archie when he’s less than a foot away. Smiling, Archie holds up the plastic bag in his right hand. After a moment, Gold’s cold stare melts into quiet comprehension, and he takes the bag without a word. 

“Gold,” Emma says suddenly. Gold almost jumps but visibly restrains himself, his eyes going wide. “Shower and change. We’ll take a break while you’re gone.”

“And make it quick,” says Regina. Gold nods and slips out of the room before Archie has the chance to say anything — to ask if he’s okay, or if he needs any help. With Gold gone, the room slowly drags itself back to life. People stand up and stretch milling around, chatting. A few disappear into the kitchen, closely followed by a stone-faced Regina, who clearly has no intention of feeding the troops _ pro bono _. 

Slowly, Archie makes his way over to Emma. She sees him coming and breaks off a conversation with Mary Margaret, turning to face him with her arms crossed. 

“Long story short,” she says before Archie even asks, “he’s been locked in a cellar on the outskirts of town. Regina’s sister, Zelena, is the one who had him.”

Archie blinks. He’d known before coming over that Zelena was involved somehow, but it’s still difficult to picture. “Is he—?”

“He’s fine,” says Emma, waving the question away. “Uninjured, at least. He’s been helping us out nonstop since we found him. Won’t take a rest.”

Mary Margaret, hovering nearby, pipes into the conversation with a nervous, “Thanks for bringing the clothes.”

“Of course,” says Archie.

“Are they yours, or—?”

“They’re new,” says Archie, smiling a little at the idea of Gold wearing any of his clothes. “I was heading to Walmart when you called me, so …”

“Oh, Walmart clothes,” Emma says, wrinkling her nose. “He might just opt to stay in the suit, then.”

“The suit he’s been wearing every day for two years?” Archie asks, raising his eyebrows. Mary Margaret giggles, but Emma just raises her eyebrows back.

“It’s Gold,” she says. “He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing anything less.”

* * *

When Gold’s quick shower stretches to the 30-minute mark, David Nolan puts down his second ham sandwich, pilfered from Regina’s fridge, and wanders down the hall to check on him. When he comes back, he pops his head into the room and says, “Hey, Archie?”

Everyone turns to look at Archie. He crosses the room to David, who whispers,

“He asked for you. Needs help with something.” There’s a beat of silence, and David adds a sheepish, “Sorry. I offered, but he said no. It’s, uh, the last door on the right, down there.”

Alone, Archie makes his way to the bathroom and knocks on the door. “Mr. Gold?” he says.

“Dr. Hopper?”

“Yeah. David said you needed help…?”

There’s a long pause.

“It’s open,” Gold says. Archie hesitates, then pushes the door open and comes inside. He closes it quickly behind him, in case someone else has slipped down the hall after him without his noticing. Gold sits on the edge of the bathtub, clean and wearing the cheap clothes Archie brought him, but grinding the heel of his palm into his eyes. After a moment, he lets his hand drop and stares wearily in Archie’s direction, not making eye contact. 

“I’m having trouble with the buttons,” Gold says. Archie glances down at Gold’s pants, eyebrows furrowed. His first thought is how he sometimes struggles to button too-small trousers in the morning, but the jeans can’t possibly be too small, with how thin Gold is. The legs of the jeans are clearly loose. 

Sensing Archie’s confusion, Gold wordlessly holds up his hands. His fingers are trembling violently. 

“Oh,” says Archie, feeling like an idiot. “Okay. Can you — can you stand?”

Gold shifts, planting his hands on the edge of the tub, and pushes himself to his feet. He lifts up the hem of his red sweater — still covered in crisp lines from where it was folded at the store — so Archie can see the waistband of his jeans. They’re zipped, but the two buttons are undone.

Silently, Archie steps forward and fumbles awkwardly with them, unused to dressing other people. He tries not to blush over how close he is to Gold, and tries not to think about where exactly his hands are. When he’s done, the pants are still woefully loose around Gold’s hips, and Archie wishes he’d thought to bring a belt. He undoes his own entirely-unnecessary belt and threads it through the loops on Gold’s jeans, tightening it to the very last notch.

“You good?” Archie asks, fastening the buckle. Gold shrugs one shoulder. “Need anything else?”

“No.”

Gold seems tired but unembarrassed by the whole affair, which Archie both admires and envies. Gold lets go of the sweater hem and grabs the plastic bag, now stuffed full with the old, worn suit.

“Thank you,” Gold says wearily. He holds up the bag so Archie knows he’s talking about more than just the clothes. Inside the bag are about a dozen things no one told Archie to bring, but which he figured Gold might want or need after a long period in captivity. Toothbrush and toothpaste, painkillers, deodorant, a comb. 

“Don’t mention it,” Archie says. He walks out of the bathroom with Gold right behind him, the plastic bag dangling from one hand. In the hallway, Gold stumbles suddenly and leans against the wall, his eyes blank and distant. Alarmed, Archie puts a hand on Gold’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks. Life gradually returns to Gold’s eyes. He blinks hard and shrugs the shoulder Archie is touching.

“Fine,” Gold says. “Just dizzy.”

He doesn’t lean away from the wall, and Archie’s concern only deepens.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asks. “Everyone else is eating lunch.”

For some reason, this prompts a short, breathy laugh from Gold.

“Er, no,” he says with a crooked, insincere smile. “I haven’t eaten.”

Archie reads into Gold’s amusement correctly. “You haven’t eaten at _ all _today?”

“I haven’t eaten at all in about a week,” says Gold dully.

“Jesus.” Archie wraps a hand around Gold’s arm and pulls him away from the wall. “Okay, come on.”

They walk slowly down the hall and back into the dining room, where everyone else is waiting. Regina gives them an impatient look and Emma, chin resting on her hand, says, “Finally. Let’s get back to it.”

“_Nope_,” says Archie before Gold can muster a response. He ignores the affronted look on Emma’s face and pulls Gold into the kitchen with him, prodding him toward the table. “Wait here,” he says. “Be right back.”

Back in the dining room, Archie is shaking with anger.

“He hasn’t eaten in a _ week_,” he says, whispering so Gold can’t hear him. Eyes widen all around the room and Emma looks past him at the kitchen, suddenly concerned.

“He didn’t tell us,” she says. 

“You didn’t _ ask_?”

No one responds, and Archie finds himself biting back a dozen furious reprimands. David, arms crossed and looking uncharacteristically rueful, avoids his glare. In the end, Archie can’t force himself to speak, so he storms back into the kitchen and finds Gold standing near an open cupboard, a can of vegetable broth clutched in one hand. Archie forcibly calms himself down and approaches Gold. When he reaches for the can, Gold jumps and cradles it possessively to his chest.

“You should sit down,” Archie says. He’s surprised and relieved to hear how gentle he sounds, no trace of his recent anger in his voice. “I’ll make it for you, okay?”

Gold hesitates, then sets the can down on the counter near Archie’s hand. He takes a seat at the kitchen table, watching silently as Archie rifles through Regina’s cupboards and fridge. 

“Does soup sound good?” Archie asks, examining Regina’s rice cooker. He turns to Gold, who shrugs and stares down at the table. “What was the last thing you ate?” Archie asks, turning toward the stove.

The silence stretches on for what seems like hours. Archie gets the rice started and grabs a bag of carrots from the fridge. Then he reconsiders, thinking about the prep time, and grabs a can of mixed vegetables instead.

“Can’t believe Regina even _ has _canned goods,” Archie remarks. There’s another long pause. Archie puts the broth on the stove, lets it heat up, and adds the vegetables.

Behind him, Gold clears his throat.

“It was dog kibble,” Gold says.

At the stove, Archie momentarily forgets how to move. He unfreezes and glances at Gold over his shoulder.

“Dog kibble?” he asks.

Gold seems unimpressed by all the concern on Archie’s face.

“I was kidnapped and kept in a cage for a eighteen months,” he says flatly. “Conditions weren’t ideal.”

Archie doesn’t know what to say, and Gold must interpret his silence as some sort of judgment or accusation, because when he speaks again, he sounds defensive.

“One adapts. Last June, I wouldn’t be able to stand after a week of fasting.”

‘Fasting.’ It’s an unusually polite term for what most people would call ‘forced starvation’. Archie stirs the soup and checks the timer on the rice.

“You think you’ll get sick?” he asks. “After you eat this?”

Gold doesn’t answer.

“Since you haven’t eaten in so long?”

“Sometimes I do,” Gold says. When Archie looks at him, he makes a face and shrugs. “It should be fine. Vegetable soup is a much gentler meal than I’m accustomed to.” Gold wrinkles his nose. “Certainly tastes better than dog food.”

Archie feels inordinately pleased to see Gold smirking. If Archie had just been rescued from nearly two years of torture, he’s certain he wouldn’t be able to joke about it like Gold is now. It’s a relief to find out Gold is a bit sturdier than he would be.

“So,” says Archie, “do you like wet food or dry food better?”

He immediately worries he’s crossed a line, but Gold just laughs.

“I’ve never had the wet kind,” he says. “Too expensive, I suspect.” Then his hand flies up to cover his mouth and he gags, all traces of humor forced away. Archie is across the room in a heartbeat, steadying Gold.

“I’m fine,” Gold says, waving Archie off. He looks pale. “I’m fine. I just — shouldn’t have thought so hard about it.”

“You’re sure?”

Gold nods, and Archie reluctantly returns to the stove. When the rice cooker starts beeping, Archie opens it and scoops a generous amount into a bowl. He pours the broth and vegetables over it and hands it to Gold.

“Sloppy presentation,” Gold comments, like he wasn’t retching into his hand a moment ago. “No garnish?”

Smiling, Archie hands him a spoon and Gold sets to eating at a pace that betrays just how hungry he is. All sarcastic quips are shelved. Archie busies himself wiping down the counters and rinsing out the now-empty pot he used for the broth.

Gold is halfway through the bowl when he abruptly slows down, trailing his spoon through the soup. After a few minutes — and no further bites — Gold pushes the bowl away.

“Sorry,” he says to Archie.

“It’s fine. Nauseous again?”

“No. It tastes spectacular,” Gold says. “It’s just …”

“Well, it’s a lot of food,” Archie says, even though it’s really not. He takes the bowl away and scoops what remains of the veggies and rice into the trash.

“Well, thank you for making it,” says Gold. He’s staring down at the table, one hand twisted up in the material of his sweater, near his ribs. Archie takes a seat next to him.

“You alright?” Archie asks, Gold’s eyes flicker up to him.

“I’m fine.”

Archie raises his eyebrows, and Gold mimics the expression, raising his eyebrows right back. Despite himself, Archie grins.

“If I were you,” he says, “I’d be dying to get home right about now. Definitely wouldn’t want to be hanging around Regina’s house.”

Gold’s face spasms. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my house keys.”

That’s a fair point.

“Well, I’ll call the locksmith for you, if you want,” Archie offers. “Get the electricity and gas turned on, too.”

Gold glances behind him, at the room full of people who seem somehow convinced that his presence is necessary to find Zelena.

“They need me,” he says.

“As bait,” Archie replies. Gold grimaces and nods. “You have to realize how fucked up that is. You’re not _ bait_. You should be in a hospital, or resting at home, at least—”

“They need me,” says Gold again, his voice quiet, and Archie realizes he won’t get through to Gold without addressing this issue first.

“Maybe they do for this plan,” he says, “and certainly you’re needed around town for other things. But right now, your health is more important than catching Zelena, and that’s what they need to be prioritizing. You need time to recover. They can think up another plan; they already have three backups they’re working on.”

Archie hasn’t actually heard if this is true, but it _ probably _is, and in this case, he’s willing to bend the truth. Gold still looks uncertain, but in the end he shrugs and nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Archie asks. “You wanna go home?”

Gold nods again.

“Excellent,” says Archie. He stands up, flashing a brief smile at Gold, and fancies he sees something new in Gold's eyes — maybe relief, maybe gratitude. Maybe just exhaustion. “I’ll let them know.”


End file.
